Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 58747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
I close my eyes and give in to the cold.
“Daphne! Oh gods!”
And then suddenly, I’m being lifted, I’m flying. Is this what it’s like when the gods pick you up to carry you to heaven? Will I wake in the Elysian Fields with my mother, finally at peace? A smile crosses my face.
And then I pass out.
Twelve
Beast
I sprint with her back into the house. She weighs nothing in my arms. Insubstantial. Beautiful and precious even covered in mud, more precious, because her shivering and clacking teeth mean she’s still with me.
I run with her up the main staircase and straight to the bath. I cradle her in my arms as I start the shower in the corner. It’s custom made, big enough for two with double shower heads. I turn on both of them to full blast. As soon as the water is even moderately warm, I climb in with her. We’re both wearing clothes and filthy but I don’t care.
Nothing matters except getting her warm.
“Come on, baby,” I whisper, rubbing my hands up and down her arms. “Come on, warm up for me. Can you hear me? Give me a nod if you can hear me.”
Her eyes open to mere slits but she nods as steam starts to fill the bathroom when the water finally heats. I run my hand under the jet of water.
“Fuck,” I hiss. Too hot. I don’t want to send her into shock, either, so I turn down the temperature. We should go slow.
I turn it to a moderately hot temperature and then arrange her under the spray. She jerks and tries to turn away from it but I hold her steady. “Shh, it’s alright. Everything’s gonna be alright now. I’ll take care of you. I swear it. Just give into the warmth. Let it seep into you.”
And it’s like those are the magic words, or maybe it's just my voice she’s responding to, because she turns and curls into my arms like it's the most natural place in the world for her to be. My breath hitches but I don’t stop.
I peel her soaked, filthy sweater off over her head and she lets me, then curls right back into my chest. And then she just nestles there. Like I’m her safe place in the storm.
Ha. Right. She ran away from you into the storm.
If she’d been out there even five more minutes… What the fuck was she thinking?
But I know, don’t I? I remember the look of fear on her face before she turned and fled—and that after standing up so magnificently to me, with that fire I want to harness and flame even hotter, to show her all she can be—all they never let her be. Her father has stifled and straight-jacketed her for her entire life.
And then to find her, curled up and nigh unto death in the garden, my beloved labyrinth where I’ve spent so many hours cultivating my precious roses…
I want to rage. I want to throw things and roar and scream.
But not while I have such precious cargo in my arms. I hold her to me and rub her back as the mud sluices out of her hair, the powerful water cleaning her.
And that’s when I notice that it’s not just mud swirling down the drain. There’s blood, too. I pull back from her and she lets out a little whine of protest, but I have to see what she’s done to herself.
“You’re hurt!” Long scratches wind up and down her arms.
She looks down at herself impassively and shrugs. “The rose thorns. It’s fine.” And then she flashes her big, luminescent green eyes at me. “I don’t mind the pain sometimes. My mom used to say that feeling pain meant she was still alive. It’s why she loved roses. They always come with thorns. Beauty plus pain. They were her.”
Then her eyes blink woozily and her forehead collides with my chest again. “I’ve never told anyone that before.”
“That’s right, honey. That’s good. I’m going to know everything about you. But first, let’s get you clean and warm.”
She nods into my chest, so much shorter than me that her head only comes up to the bottom of my chin.
My chest squeezes, and not just because she’s wrapped her arms around me. I’ve never— I mean, this isn’t what I was— I’m supposed to be the one—
“You’ll never be cold again,” I lean over and murmur into her hair, and she nods again, like she believes me.
Thirteen
Daphne
When I wake up, it’s the middle of the night and I’m shivering in spite of the fact that there are blankets piled on top of me.
“Daphne?”
It’s him. The Beast. The same one I ran from earlier today. Gods, I’m so cold. My teeth are still chattering. I can’t remember why I ran. I think he yelled and it all seemed scary? Or maybe I was scared of myself? All the things he’s made me feel since coming here?